Through Hell And Back
by Kimmeth
Summary: He will regret his actions forever, and he will do anything to bring her back, even go through hell if he has to… GuyxMarian, after S2 finale so spoilers ahoy, an image of the afterlife. Please read. COMPLETE AT LONG LAST.
1. Chapter 1

_Summary: _He will regret his actions forever, and he will do anything to bring her back, even go through hell if he has to… GuyxMarian, after S2 finale so spoilers ahoy, an image of the afterlife. Please read.

_Disclaimer:_ Robin Hood and all associated characters and recognisable events or settings are the property of the BBC writers who created them. I own nought but the plot, and any OC's will be clearly labelled.

_Through Hell and Back_

_One_

_Trapped in a world with no feeling_

There was rage. There was pain. There was goodbye. And then there was nothing except darkness…

Marian felt herself falling, tumbling head over heels through and endless blackness as if she had just thrown herself from the tallest tower of Nottingham Castle. The end of her journey didn't seem to be close, if it existed at all: she simply kept falling slowly away from something… something she couldn't quite place. The blackness was so absolute that she couldn't tell if her eyes were open or closed. Had she lost the power of sight or was there nothing to see? Marian had the strange sensation of weightlessness, like she was flying in a dream, dancing on the air so lightly she could've been a cloud, ready to be blown off course by the slightest breeze. Yet she was still falling. No, plummeting was a better word. She was moving more quickly now, tumbling ever faster through the dark, but feeling so light. It was as if she had left her body behind…

Marian realised with a jolt in the memory of her stomach what had happened, and she tried to scream, only to find that she had left her voice behind as well. She was dead. This was her death; this blind, silent eternity was to be her afterlife, and with every second she was slipping further and further away from the glorious multicoloured paradise that had been her true life. _No_, her mind cried in vain. _I don't want this! I don't want to die! How did I come to this?_ The memory flashed through her fragmented thoughts, and in her mind she gasped at the vividness of the picture. He was there, the sword outstretched, roaring in his animalistic anger, bearing down upon her. He was almost with her when she screamed silently again, screwing her eyes up against the image, not wanting to witness the deed again. She prepared herself for a fresh, searing pain, but none came. She was back to falling in the dark, although the sense of an impending impact remained long after her flashback had dissipated. Her consciousness was falling, and it was about to hit the ground.

Marian opened her eyes with a gasp, feeling the heaviness that someone coming back to their body from a lucid dream feels. She tried to remember the reverie, but all she could recall was a disturbing sensation in the pit of her stomach. She looked up at the canopy above her bed. It was a light-coloured silk organza, not the heavy drapery of the castle. She was back in her own bed, back in Knighton Hall. _No_, she thought firmly to herself. _This place was razed. It burnt to the ground. _Another image, momentary and yet so vivid, flashed before her eyes. She was looking back over her shoulder as flames consumed her once-magnificent home. Before she could think on her paradoxical situation any further, the door opened and her father entered.

"Did you sleep well?" he asked, sitting on the end of her bed.

"Yes," she replied automatically. In all the years that he had performed this morning ritual, she had never answered differently, no matter how troubled her slumber had been. She'd had a good night's sleep, and now it was just any other ordinary day. She'd go out for a ride later, maybe speak to the villagers, and then go and meet Robin in the forest. No different to any other day. If only se could remember what was bothering her… She gritted her teeth suddenly against the impact of a sword slamming into her stomach, the memory swimming hazily in front of her.

"Are you alright?" asked her father on seeing her pained expression. Marian sat up in bed and looked him straight in the eye, but for a few brief moments she could only see him lying cold and lifeless in Nottingham market square.

"You're dead," she said, pulling her knees up to her chest in an automatic reaction to the revelation. "I'm dead." Her father nodded calmly, which did not serve well to calm her nerves.

"We're all dead," he said, as matter-of-factly as if he was stating the weather. "Everyone is dead here."

Marian looked around the room again. She was a dead maiden, conversing with her dead father in a dead house. It was a chilling thought, one that she couldn't quite grasp fully. Something in the back of her mind kept teasing her, telling her that something wasn't quite right. Her eyes finally met her father's again.

"Guy killed me," she told him, hoping that by saying it herself she could accept it as the truth more readily than she was doing presently.

"I knew he was no good for you," he replied simply.

"No good for me!" Marian exclaimed. "He ran me threw with a sword! That's a little more than 'no good for me'! He killed me!" She wanted to feel anger at her father's understatement, and bitter hatred towards Guy for his actions, but she found that she couldn't. She was unable to feel such vehement emotions. She tried, but it was to no avail. She remembered how it felt to be angry, to feel her face flush scarlet and her throat constrict around her words, but for some reason she couldn't invoke the same reaction, no matter how much she desired it. _Maybe this is heaven,_ she shrugged. _Maybe you cannot experience such malevolent emotions in the home of the Lord._ She thought of Robin, expecting to sense loss at having left him behind, and sorrow at his having to continue without her, but there was nothing. No feelings played out in her mind. _Perhaps you cannot feel emotions that will cause you pain. Maybe this place retains only the good things from life. _Finally, she looked at her father and smiled, waiting for him to return the gesture. When he did so, however, she didn't feel the usual rush of warmth and compassion she always used to feel when she saw the corners of his eyes wrinkle as he laughed. There was nothing. No emotion at all. He could've been any kindly old man watching over her. _What is this place? A world with no feeling?_

Vaguely, Marian remembered what it felt like to be frustrated. If she could've felt it now, she would've done. She sighed and looked out of the window at the golden sun pouring over the fields, a cool breeze making her bed drapes flutter slightly.

"It's my perfect morning," she said plainly. "There's even an arrowhead of geese in the sky."

"That's nice," said her father in the non-committal tone that showed he wasn't really listening. "I'll leave you to get dressed."

Marian knew that, had she been in her true life, she would've thrown back her head and howled in exasperation at this awful numbness and lack of feeling that was consuming her. She could feel the sunlight on her face, but she couldn't enjoy the sensation. She had spent her life waiting for a perfect morning, and now that it had arrived at long last, she couldn't revel in it.

Reluctantly she got out of bed and ventured over to her chest, rifling through the dresses within to try and find something that would match her mood: numb and distant. She finally settled on a simple grey silk, one she hadn't ever worn much before. It looked too miserable, she'd always said, but at that moment the coldness reflected the way she was – hopelessly devoid of feeling but for the slight memories she could drag to the surface.

_As long as I have memories I won't go mad_, she thought to herself stubbornly. She slipped the dress over her head and went to close the chest but something arrested her attention, or rather the lack of something.

"Father," she called.

"Yes?"

"Where's my gold dress?"

Her father re-entered the room looking as puzzled as she was.

"I thought you hated that dress?"

"I do." It was true. She had hated it. The only time she had ever worn it was to her farce of a semi-wedding to Guy. Each time she saw it, she was reminded of the dread she had felt as she walked up the aisle to meet her fate. Despite this however, she had never discarded it. She always wanted to keep it as a constant warning to herself. Even though it caused so much ill feeling, she wouldn't part with it for the world.

The memory of frustration surfaced once more as she closed the chest, ever more perplexed by her situation.

"Are you feeling quite well?" asked her father, evidently concerned.

"Yes," she replied, although it was a barefaced lie. She wasn't feeling well because she wasn't feeling anything at all. She was a numb creature in a perfect world, a world inhabited by the dead. _Wait… Inhabited by the dead…_

Marian turned quickly to her father, the seed of a theory growing in her mind.

"Is mother here?" she asked eagerly.

"Yes, she's around somewhere. Kate!" he called.

Marian smiled. She might just have found a positive to this world. After a few moments though, her smile faded. There had been no reply.

"I'm sure she's here somewhere," said her father, although Marian remained unconvinced. "Why don't you go and have a look for her?"

Marian nodded blankly and left the room, wanting to feel elation at the prospect of seeing her mother again and worry that she would never find her both at the same time, but she couldn't. All she felt was trapped, imprisoned in a perfect world with no feelings.

_Advance warning - this won't be updated soon because I am on holiday for the next two weeks without my pc. I have excellent intentions though - this fic will be finished!_


	2. Chapter 2

_A/N:_ Well, here it is. Chapter two. Enjoy, and sorry for the wait.

* * *

_Two_

_Hell cannot be worse than this_

The apothecary did not look up as he heard someone cautiously enter his abode. In fact, he betrayed no sign at all of knowing that he was not alone, but he knew. He was the apothecary. He knew everything.

His visitor crossed the floor softly and sat opposite him, the smoke from the heavily scented fire obscuring the field of vision in the small stone house.

"Father forgive me, for I have sinned," the visitor said. The apothecary was silent for a few moments and then looked up.

"You have done rather more than that, haven't you Lord Gisborne?" he replied calmly. "I'm the apothecary, I know everything," he added before Guy could ask his next inevitable question. "This afternoon I saw you and the Sheriff return to his house across the way. You were so pale, and there was such horror in your eyes that I knew at once that you had done something unforgivable. Besides." The apothecary stroked his long beard and surveyed Guy's still-sickly pallor. "This is the house of a heathen magician, not of God. One doesn't come to the medicine man to confess. One asks his advice."

"You have helped me before," said Guy. "The last time…"

"The last time I saw you, you were battered and bleeding having failed in your attempt at regicide. It may have been over two years ago but I still remember it as if it was yesterday." The apothecary's tone was suddenly sharper, and his eyes were shrewd, even through the tendrils of smoke. "This time you have once again failed at regicide, but at a far greater cost. So tell me Lord Gisborne, what have you done that is so terrible, so irreversible as to cause a willing traitor and murderer to try for the forgiveness of his God?"

Guy stared into the embers, well aware that the apothecary's piercing gaze was still upon him. It was no use trying to hide the truth from the man. He knew everything.

"Marian."

The apothecary sighed.

"Take off your gloves. You keep looking at them expecting to see blood although it has long since washed away."

Guy obliged, and they returned to silence.

"Say it," commanded the apothecary suddenly. Guy looked up from the fire as if it had burnt him.

"What?"

"Say what you cannot bring yourself to say. I cannot help you if you refuse to accept what you have done as the truth."

Guy looked the apothecary in the eye.

"You know what I've done. You know everything."

"Of course I know. I knew as soon as you spoke her name. I am still waiting for _you_ to tell me what you did, however."

"I…" Guy began, but the words caught in his throat, choking him as he tried to speak them, as asphyxiating as the potent smoke swirling in the room.

"Shall I give you an idea, so to speak?" The apothecary peered closely into Guy's face, as if he was trying to read him. "I will tell you what happened."

As the old medicine man began to speak, Guy could picture the terrible scene unfurling in front of him once again.

"It was the middle of the day, the height of the desert sun. You were so full of spirit: the rampant, lusty spirit that you feel before the impassioned kill – you have spoken to me about it before. You were ready to kill your king and forge yourself a new life in the aftermath. And under that midday desert sun, you were so hot you felt as if you could be boiling in your own sweat." Although it was the cold dead of night, when Guy ran a finger around his collar it still came away dripping. The apothecary noticed the gesture but did not acknowledge it, continuing with his chillingly accurate tale. "You were ready. And suddenly she was there, between you and your aim, as impassioned as you were, doing all in her power to prevent you from reaching that which you desired, even dripping her poison into your ear if she had to. Her lethal words were not your undoing however, but her own. You were enraged, you ran, you used your readiness to kill against her. You heard her cry, you felt her fall in your arms, and then you realised what terrible thing you had done."

Only now did Guy notice that he was in the apothecary's house and not out in Acre. He could still feel her, the horrifying moment when she had gone limp and he had known…

"So tell me what you did," hissed the apothecary.

"I killed her," said Guy finally, his words cutting through the smoke like a knife.

The apothecary said nothing in response to this. Instead he simply sat watching Guy's reaction to the truth.

"What would you do to have her back?" he asked presently.

Guy looked up in astonishment, but there was no mistaking the faint glimmer of hope in his eyes.

"What would you do to have her back?" the apothecary repeated.

"Anything," Guy croaked. "I'd do anything."

"And how far would you go to get her back?"

"To the ends of the Earth if I had to."

The apothecary looked at him severely, preparing his final question carefully. The old man had never seen one person subject to such desperation in all his many years. The grief-stricken lord in front of him was obviously in earnest. He really would do anything. Finally he spoke again.

"Would you be prepared to go through hell and back to find her?"

"I…" Guy began, but the apothecary cut him off.

"This question is not to be answered lightly. It requires consideration. A venture into the unknown cannot be undertaken on a whim. How badly do you want her back? How much do you regret what you have done? Is it enough to go through extremes and emotions unheard of in life?"

Guy thought. What was hell compared to a life without Marian, a life so caused by his own hand? It was no life at all. Hell could not be worse than the pathetic existence that he had condemned himself to. He had nothing left to look forward to except a not-so-distant death and the release from this living hell to the next. No, hell could not be worse than this.

"I would go through hell," he said eventually.

The apothecary nodded.

"I knew you would. In that case, I think I may be able to assist you."

"How?" Guy asked, but the apothecary did not reply. He slowly rose and went over to one of the shelves that lined the room, taking down a tiny phial of black liquid.

"Anyone of my kin will tell you that this is the most dangerous of our potions," he said as he gave the bottle to Guy with as much delicacy as a jeweller handling a precious gem.

"Living death," said Guy. "I have seen it used before."

"Yes. And no. It is like living death, but stronger by tenfold. One drop of this will act in the same way as the medicine that you are familiar with. Two, however…" The apothecary resumed his previous sitting position without haste. "Two drops tell a far different story."

"Tell me."

"Two drops will send you from your transient state of half-life through to the afterlife itself."

"And I'll find Marian."

"In short, yes. But there are certain things that I must warn you of before you make your perilous journey." The apothecary's eyes were bright through the smoke, but they were also very serious. "There are three rules of the afterlife that you must always be aware of. The first rule is always the most important. This you must never forget: _The afterlife is the realm of the dead._"

"How is that a rule?" asked Guy. The apothecary looked stern.

"It is the first and most important rule that you must never forget," he said coldly. "The second rule: _The afterlife is a world of dreams and nightmares._"

Guy said nothing in response to this, now knowing better than to interrupt.

"The third and final rule, which you will forget at your peril: _Leave with the sunset._"

"With the sunset?"

"You will have only a few hours in the afterlife," said the medicine man plainly. "When the sun sets there, it rises in the true life. When you leave the afterlife you will wake into the true life. Remember these rules well. They will be the difference between success and failure."

Guy thanked the apothecary and got up to leave, the cryptic rules still causing him unease.

"What happens if I stay past sunset?" he asked.

"No one knows," said the other man matter-of-factly. "No one has ever returned after our living sun has risen. So far, everyone who has made the journey has been careful to abide by the rules and leave with the sunset."

A shiver ran down Guy's spine.

"And what do they mean? The rules?" he asked, ignoring the previous words as best he could.

"They mean exactly what they say. They require no further explanation than this: heed their warnings. Do not take my words lightly."

The conversation was over. Guy stepped out of the house, not wanting to remain in the apothecary's foreboding presence any longer. He looked up at the full moon signalling the height of the darkness, many hours still to pass before the living sun would rise.

He was ready…


	3. Chapter 3

_Sorry for the ludicrously long wait, in my defence I have been quite busy with uni but it's partially my own fault for letting another fandom take over my entire life. Anyhow, here is the third chapter, and things are starting to get a bit freaky..._

* * *

_Three_

_The Descent into Death_

The Sheriff's house was as silent as the grave, Guy mused, before physically shaking himself out of that train of thought and trying to find a better analogy. He did not want to be reminded of his impending task any more than necessary. He stole through the rooms as quietly as he could to avoid waking the other occupants. Should the Sheriff be disturbed, then the vial of potent potion would surely be discovered and Marian would be lost to him forever.

It was of paramount importance that Guy completed his journey that night. The next day brought their departure back to England, leaving the guiding hand of the apothecary far behind him. It had to be done before they left the Holy Land. Such things simply wouldn't work back home, where there was no mysterious foreign atmosphere to lend magic to the proceedings.

Guy reached his room and bolted the door behind him, drinking in the moonlight that poured through the open window, making the floor seem almost as white as if it were midday. There was no time to waste contemplating the night, however. His chances of finding Marian became slimmer by the second, and he had not even begun.

_Now or never_, thought Guy grimly. He threw himself down on the bed without bothering to take his boots off and held the vial up to the light, the black liquid within showing swirling hints of red and blue, as if it had a life of its own. He shuddered and uncorked it carefully. Two drops were all it took, but it didn't look as if it even held that much...

Guy closed his eyes and took a slug, struggling to swallow the vile tasting brew. He kept telling himself, over and over, that it was worth it to bring Marian back.

_But will she want to come back? After all that's happened in her life, she's probably happier where she is now, with her parents..._ He pushed the gnawing fear to the back of his mind as he felt himself drifting into a heavy slumber. It wasn't exactly the same as sleep. It felt more oppressive, claustrophobic even, and uncomfortable. It was not going to be an easy night. The darkness became absolute; not even the stark moonlight could penetrate his vision. The apothecary had not told him anything about the journey itself, perhaps purposefully to keep him from getting cold feet at the last moment. If he had realised that he was facing such a disorientating experience, would he still have gone through with it? That was the question, one that Guy tried not to dwell on. He didn't want to think about what-could-have-beens. Ever since the fateful act that had driven him to this state he had been plagued by visions of how the future might have changed had he not given in to his uncontrollable impulse...

Guy was dragged out of such a self-destructive thought pattern when he realised that he was falling rapidly, like a stone sinking heavily through water. Yes, that was the sound ringing in his ears: the bubbling and gurgling of a lazy millpond, interspersed with occasional splashes and behind it all, a spluttering cry...

_No... It can't be..._

Guy shook his head and reached for something to break his fall and pull him out of the infernal darkness, but there was nothing. He could see the pond now, its murky blue-green surface disturbed and distressed.

"Stop!" he shouted to the blackness, trying to block the picture from his mind. "Stop this madness!"

The image and sound rippled away, only to be replaced with another and another, each bringing the same painful memories of regret. The mewling of a baby left alone in the forest as he rode away... discovering the broken window that had heralded Marian's temporary departure from his life... Guy knew what was to come next but he couldn't fight its inevitability. There it was, a deserted town in the Acre sands, a familiar sword standing true in the stomach of a maiden in white. Guy howled, willing an end to the anguish as he continued to fall into an all-consuming darkness.

He landed with a thud, spread-eagled on his stomach on a cold stone floor, the memory of plummeting towards the ground still fresh in his mind.

"My Lord?" came a voice above him. Guy looked up groggily to see a guard standing over him, looking as concerned as could be expected from someone in his position. "Are you... well?"

"I'm fine." Guy stood up and patted himself down, checking for injuries. Remarkably, he didn't seem to have been at all physically affected by his great fall. The guard nodded and stood back, watching him warily. Guy took no notice, looking around at his surroundings and finding himself in one of the lesser used spare rooms of the castle. So this was the afterlife. He could sense the guard's still on him and turned to dismiss him but the words died in his throat as he saw his companion's identity.

"It can't be," he murmured. He had found himself face to face with Joe Lacey, the Sheriff's would-be assassin, dead for over a year. A death met by Guy's own hand. He went automatically for his sword but found the scabbard empty.

"There's no point, my Lord," said Joe plainly. "After all, you know yourself that I'm already dead. It would be pointless to use the same sword against me twice."

Of course, thought Guy. He had already forgotten the first rule. If this was the realm of the dead then there would be no need for weaponry. Ghosts could not be killed. That's all they were, just ghosts.

Presently Joe came over to him, his own sword outstretched. He paused with it an inch from Guy's face and appeared to think carefully before nicking his cheek. Guy gasped in shock when the blade came away bloodied. This was no ghost.

"You'd do well to remember, my Lord, that whilst we are dead, you are not so. You, my Lord, are still very much alive."

Joe left the room, his statement hanging in the air. As if that wasn't chilling enough, Guy thought he could hear, just within earshot, an aside from the guard. Whether it was meant for him to hear or not, Guy couldn't tell, but he could not ignore it.

_For now._

For now, he was alive in the world of the dead, and he was unarmed. Even if he'd had his sword with him, it would have been of little use against his strange adversary. He felt for the first time since childhood perhaps, extremely vulnerable. He didn't want to dwell on how long his state was going to last, nor what should happen should Joe return and cause an injury graver than a simple nick. Looking out at the horizon, he saw the sun hanging low in the sky. It was mid-afternoon, and he was fast running out of time in which to achieve his goal. He had to find Marian, but the idea of beginning to seek her out in the vast expanse of English countryside made him think twice about venturing out of the castle walls. Surely there was something that could help him. A white shape in the middle distance caught his eye, partially obscured by trees but still visible and instantly recognisable. Knighton Hall. The Apothecary's words came back to him and a plan began to formulate in his mind.

_The Afterlife is a world of dreams and nightmares. _

Marian had never forgiven him for destroying her home, the only home that she had ever known. She had once spoken to him of how she dreamed of home all the time. If the hall existed here, in her dream world, then that was where she would be. The only challenge now was to get there unnoticed and unscathed. He made to leave the room by the same door that Joe had, but nearly walked into a solid wall. The door was on the opposite wall. He went through it carefully and paused in the frame. It had definitely moved. The castle had a life of its own. It was playing with him, and it was not playing fairly. Still, he'd know for next time.

Outside the small room, the castle was eerily empty, but it was in no way quiet. Every small sound seemed to reverberate twice around the walls, voices amplified sevenfold although their owners were nowhere to be found. Guy tried to listen to the echoing conversations, to gain some idea of the speakers' identities or whereabouts, but he could only catch snippets. The few words he could pick up did not do anything to aid his unease.

_Dead...death...killed...murdered...we are all dead...the living have crossed the barrier...death...afterlife...murder..._

Guy shook his head, trying not to think about why the voices all seemed so horribly familiar. He was on a mission, and he couldn't let himself be distracted by the morbid messages that the walls seemed to scream at him as he walked down the corridor in search of the way out. He was helplessly lost in the one place he knew like the back of his hand, and he was running out of time.

* * *

_To be continued._

_A/N: Right! I have German history to read so I'll bid you adieu. In case anyone was wondering, Joe Lacey appeared in series one episode three. Please review, and hopefully you won't have to wait quite as long for chapter four. _


	4. Chapter 4

_I'M SORRY!!!! Yet again I have taken a ludicrously long time to update and you must feel free to beat with sticks until you are satisfied. HOWEVER. The promise of a new series, (and RA back on the telly with some degree of regularity...) has spurred me on to new heights, mainly because the BBC scriptwriters have STOLEN one of my ideas and I want to get it out in the open before they ruin it.... So chapter five will be up ASAP! Meanwhile, as I tear my hair out and my fingers start to bleed from typing too quickly, enjoy the latest offering..._

* * *

_Four_

_Freedom to find frustration_

Marian crashed through the undergrowth, letting her motions display the anger that she could not feel yet so desperately wanted to. Maybe if she acted as if she was angry she would be able to feel it, just as acting unafraid gave one the confidence to fight one's fears. She had been unable to find her mother in the house and she was beginning to give up hope of ever finding her again, no matter how many times she tried to convince herself to the opposite.

_Don't be silly, she's got to be here somewhere. If this is the afterlife then she must be here. Everyone's here. _

She needed to find Robin, ask his opinion, which was why she presently found herself in the middle of the forest, searching for him in the mist and strangely dense foliage. It was not the same Sherwood that she was used to in life. Marian found it unnerving that whilst her haven could produce a perfect copy of the home she had loved, the place she had almost loved more than home should be incomplete, a shoddy representation. Mind you, there was something a little unnerving about the entire experience. She had not yet come to terms with the idea that she was confined to this world for eternity. It was too perfect, too dreamlike to be real. Marian shook her head; she couldn't tell whether it was real or not, but she knew that despite slowly losing her sense of reality, she kept on hoping that she was going to wake up to find it all a dream.

"Robin?" she called, expecting to see him. "Where are you?"

There was no reply and the truth hit her like a runaway horse. Robin would not be there. He was not dead. He could not be a part of the afterlife.

The scream of sadness and frustration that had been held back for what seemed like – and could have indeed been – a lifetime, finally broke free, the intensity taking Marian by surprise. Suddenly she could feel, a glorious explosion of emotion bubbling up inside, filling her up and bursting out in one fantastic howl.

_Where on Earth am I? _Marian thought. _Well, _she added bitterly as an afterthought. _I'm not on Earth, am I? _

Wherever she was, it didn't matter. She could feel in this place, all the sorrow and pain and anger bursting through the numbness in full force. Through it all, one feeling stood out. Worry pushed itself to the forefront of her mind, and Marian could sense the rising heart rate that went with panic. She had just realised how helplessly lost she was in the forest, the trees now barely visible through the thick white mist. It wasn't cold, like mist usually was; just oppressive ad heavy.

"Hello?" she called, although she didn't know who would hear her. As far as she could make out, she and her father were the only ones in this strange afterlife, and he was back at the house. For all she knew he was miles away. "Is anyone there?"

"You're lost," came a quiet voice, making Marian scream with shock.

"Who are you?" she asked once she had regained her composure. "_Where_ are you?"

"On your left."

Marian turned and jumped. Another young woman was standing with her in the mist a few feet away.

"Where did you come from?" she asked abruptly, surprise making her forget her manners.

"I've always been here. You just weren't looking for me before."

Marian accepted that. It made about as much sense as anything else in this illogical half-life.

"You shouldn't be here," the woman continued. "Strictly speaking ,the dead do not come into our realm."

"I thought this was the afterlife."

"It is. In a way. You've strayed too far from the path, wandered into foreign territory so to speak. Come, walk with me. I'll guide you back to the edge of the forest."

Still confused by the situation, Marian followed the woman through the mist, jogging to keep up. She seemed to move without effort, gliding along ethereally as if she wasn't really there.

"This is the afterlife. But it is the part of the afterlife where the lost souls gather to wander. "

"I feel like a lost soul at the moment," said Marian darkly.

"But you aren't. Your body has died and your soul is living on. It isn't lost. I, on the other hand." She paused with a sigh. "My name is Alice of Shrewsbury. Perhaps you have heard of me?"

Marian shook her head.

"It is of no consequence. Years ago I fell ill. So badly they thought I had died, although my heart was still beating. My body was saved and lives on, although my soul had already made the journey to the other side."

"A lost soul trying to make its way back." Marian finished for her. "How awful for you."

"It isn't the happiest experience," said Alice. "Especially when you have been searching for as long as I have. This part of the world-" she gestured around at the mist "- is the closest to the true life. That's why you can feel here."

"Can I stay here?" Marian asked. Alice shook her head.

"No. This place is for travelling, transient souls, those who wish to escape and be reunited with their true lives. You wouldn't be able to remain here even if you wanted to. You probably won't be able to find it again."

"How come?" Marian held her chin up in defiance.

"This is a strange place, the afterlife. The world, reality is different here. Things are relative. It has a life, a consciousness of its own. It is keen that nothing should disturb the natural order of life and death."

The mist was beginning to clear. Marian could make out the shapes of the trees and the vague outline of the forest path in front of her. She turned to Alice, startled to find her guide appearing to fade, growing less distinct with every passing moment.

"What's happening?" she asked, alarmed.

"Time's running out." For the first time there was life in Alice's ethereal voice, a fighting spirit behind the words. "Just as you cannot remain in the place of lost souls, so I cannot leave it. I cannot stay by the border much longer. You must go on alone."

Alone. The word seemed more foreboding than she had ever found it before. Alone in this strange world with a mind of its own.

"You are brave and strong Marian. You have the necessary will to fight your way through. I know you are something special. No one wants to get back to the true life as much as you do, not even those of us who still have a stake in it. You would not have found us otherwise." Her shape was almost completely lost to the lingering tendrils of mist; only her voice remained strong, panicked and despairing at how little time she had left.

"The barrier between the worlds has been breached. They will do anything in their power to rectify the anomaly and keep things as they were before. You can't let them, Marian. This is your chance, your only chance. Take it and don't let it go. For the sake of all of us who may never make it back, take this opportunity to return to your true life."

Her voice faded with the last of the mist, leaving Marian alone on the edge of the forest, Knighton Hall looming high in front of her.

"I will," she whispered. "I will take this opportunity. I hope you find your way back."

The numbness that seemed to emanate from her home settled heavily over her again, although she could remember fear and she knew that she would be feeling it ordinarily. What was the opportunity that Alice had spoken of? How was she going to take it if she didn't even know what it was? Could she dare to hope that she might be able to get back, to rise from the dead? Dare she hope for the impossible?

Marian sighed and looked up at her house, immaculate and calm, and she thought of her father within it. Did she really want to leave and go back to her old life, with all the troubles that went with it? This life offered her all she wanted and needed. Apart from emotion, she corrected herself. And her mother.

Frustration. It was faint, but it was there, a little stronger than a memory but not complete, like words on a page all but washed away until only the vague shapes of primeval letters remained. She turned her mind to something else, sitting down on the grass in the shade of the forest canopy and pondering what Alice had said. She wouldn't have to make the decision straight away, she hoped, and she needed time to work out the lost soul's cryptic messages.

_The barrier between the worlds has been breached. _

What was that supposed to mean? The line between the true life and the afterlife had been brushed away perhaps. But what did that signify? Surely living people weren't suddenly going to start falling into the world of the dead for no reason. She imagined a hole in the middle of Nottingham square, with unsuspecting peasants falling into it. Maybe it would become the Sheriff's new favourite form of execution – death by leap into the unknown.

Before she could think on it any further, Marian heard something that made her forget that anything was troubling her at that moment. She scrambled to her feet to try and find the source of the sound. Someone was singing, a light, quiet melody floating on the breeze. She hadn't heard the tune for so long that she could barely recognise it, but her vague memory spurred her on as she weaved in and out of the trees at the edge of the forest in search of the voice's owner. It was the song her mother used to sing to her when she was a child. Marian had never heard anyone else sing it, and she dared to hope that following the tune would lead her to her mother. That would be one thing that would keep her here, despite her promises to Alice. Her whole family back together again.

She skidded to her halt as the melody faded, and she drew back – from what she didn't know – as it was replaced by a roar of frustration. Again, she recognised the tone.

"Guy?" she said in disbelief.

She saw him then, a flicker in front of her, indistinct, like a mirage. He looked around and their eyes connected.

"Marian?"

She nodded, dumbstruck, taking another instinctive step back as he moved towards her.

"I…" he began, stopping in his tracks, but he was cut off by another voice, this time unfamiliar and unnerving. They both looked around for its owner but there was no visible source of the sound.

_The barrier has been breached. We must fix the disturbance!_

"Come on!" he said, holding out his hand to her. "I don't have much time…" He was already fading, like Alice had done, and before Marian could make the decision he was barely a shadow, his voice a whisper on the breeze.

"I'm sorry," he finished. "I'll find you, I promise."

Marian found herself alone in the forest once more, the only sounds being provided by the surrounding nature. She knew she ought to be angry on seeing the man who had caused her descent to this intolerable place. She ought to be scared at his sudden reappearance in her afterlife. But she wasn't, and even if she had been capable of feeling, she wouldn't be. The only thing she thought of was hope. Guy was here, in the afterlife somewhere, and he was very much alive. This was her chance.

The only thing left to do was decide whether to take it or not.

* * *

_There we are, the $64,000 question... Will she stay or will she go? I SWEAR BLIND that the next chapter will be with you before Saturday 28th of March even if it KILLS me!_

_Other than that, please forgive me for the wait and please review!_


	5. Chapter 5

_There's a story behind this chapter. It's quite long. I was plotting my epic 'Desert Secrets' many moons ago and I was thinking up back stories, as you do, and I had an idea. This idea never made it to 'Desert Secrets' except a very brief mention in passing in the epilogue – cookies for anyone who can tell me what it was WITHOUT reading this chapter. Anyway, I then decided to build on my idea in 'Through Hell And Back'. A few months later, whilst surfing the BBC website in search of RH related news, I found TO MY HORROR, that the BBC were using my idea kernel in the next series. So here is my idea, hopefully sufficiently different from the Beeb's version to convince you that I had the idea first. _

* * *

_Five_

_The First Cut_

How the hell could he be lost in Nottingham Castle? Guy cursed as he rounded yet another corner to find himself in a dead end. He practically lived in the place, but now it was simply a maze of corridors and rooms, each one looking exactly the same. It was familiar enough for him to have a vague idea of the direction he was going in, but it wasn't familiar enough for him to recognise any point of reference. How was he going to find Marian if he couldn't even find his way out of the castle? And once he found her, how was he going to get out of the afterlife itself? All the apothecary had told him was that he should leave before sunset. He had given no mention of method.

Guy stopped in his tracks and stared up at the vaulted ceiling of the chamber that he had found himself in, letting out a howl of pent-up frustration. Something told him that it would perhaps be more prudent to remain quiet, given his precarious position in this world, but Guy had always been one to act on impulse and his scream continued unabated.

"Guy?" He fell silent and turned, his heart leaping to his mouth as he recognised the voice immediately.

"Marian?"

She was there, in front of him, but she seemed shadowy, like a ghost. He moved towards her, going to stretch out a hand automatically to touch her face, check she was real. She drew away from him instinctively. _Small wonder_, Guy thought grimly, _when you consider the circumstances of our last meeting._

"I…" he began, wanting to say something, anything that would help to convince her, if possible, that he meant her no harm, that he was here to bring her back, to save her, although the question still remained whether she would want to be saved or not. Guy pushed that thought to the back of his mind but before he could speak again another voice interrupted, one of the many voices that seemed to come from within the castle walls themselves. He looked around for its source but as usual found nothing, and felt the chills creep up his spine as he listened to the words.

_The barrier has been breached. We must fix the disturbance! _

He turned back to Marian. Her eyes were wide with fear and confusion.

"Come on!" He reached out for her, but her image was becoming fainter than it was already. "I don't have much time."

It was too late. Whether she would have taken his hand or not, she was nothing more than an outline now.

"I'm sorry," he called to her, hoping she could hear him, wherever she was. "I'll find you, I promise."

She had gone completely.

Guy could hear footsteps coming towards him, echoing around the corridors. Their volume was deceptive and he couldn't tell how far away his pursuers were, but he knew that it would be prudent to move before he was discovered. As long as he didn't stay in one place too long, he had a vague hope of outwitting the dead who were protecting their world from his unwarranted intrusion. He left the room and ran, this time not caring about direction. The clanking of armour appeared to be closer, and Guy looked over the balcony (whether it was normally there or not was of little consequence at that point in time). The group of guards, Joe Lacey at the head of the pack, was running in what he hoped was the wrong direction, but when the castle seemed to change of its own accord nothing was impossible. He ran back the way he had come and threw himself through the nearest door into a thankfully empty chamber.

"Guy?"

His blood ran cold. The room wasn't empty after all. He hadn't heard the voice for a good twenty-five years, except in nightmares, but he knew it instantly. It hadn't changed from the moment he'd last heard it, and the memory still managed to chill him to the bone, even now.

"What are you doing here?" the voice continued, coming closer to him. Guy didn't want to turn round, afraid of what he would see when he did so, scared of the face that would match the voice. "You aren't dead, are you?"

It was the voice of a child, high and sing song, but there was a haunting quality to the cadence. It was unnerving him more than he thought it would, more than the nightmares did. But then again, as the apothecary had said, he was trapped in a world of dreams and nightmares. It was fitting that, like in a dream, he couldn't stop himself from turning to face the latest in his series of strange, supernatural torments. He took a deep breath and turned on his heel.

She was there, standing in front of him, dripping with water, pondweeds tangled all around her small frame, lips blue and face pale and drowned.

"Bethan," he said, choked, as if he was drowning himself. The sound of water filled his ears and Guy found himself falling into a memory, so vivid and lifelike that he could scarcely convince himself that it was just a dream, that it wasn't tangible. He was in a field, watching the local children playing, a boy and a younger girl. There was the millpond, its surface calm and tranquil, until… Guy closed his eyes and waited for the inevitable splash. He had relived this moment so many times, but it never played out any differently. The giggles and squeals of children's play became splashes and screams, the pond surface disturbed and rippling violently. The boy watched in horror as the girl thrashed about , her pleas for help freezing him to the spot before she slowly sank beneath the surface of the pond. The boy came to his senses and he turned and ran back to the village. Guy looked on as the stream of bubbles floating to the surface slowed to nothing.

"Bethan!" he howled, although it made no difference. It never did. The boy returned, half the village in tow, or so it seemed. The blacksmith dived into the pond, seeming to be under for an eternity before he resurfaced, the girl in his arms. The townsfolk gathered round, anxious, but Guy knew it was too late. As they bore her body back up to the village, the boy remained, staring back out over the pond.

"Stop this!" Guy yelled, and he found himself back in the stone chamber, face to face with the girl that he had just seen drown for what seemed like the hundredth time. "I'm already plagued with nightmares, I see it enough ordinarily, I don't need to see it here."

"You left me!" said Bethan. Her voice was no longer sing-song, but angry. It was still a child's tone, but the words and thoughts behind it were fully formed, with all the nuances of adult rage and hatred. "You watched me drown and then you ran away! I could see you there on the bank. I begged you to rescue me and you did nothing! You left me to die!"

"I was seven years old!" Guy roared in return, Bethan's anger causing his own quick temper to rise. She said nothing in reply, staring him down.

"I was your sister!" she hissed eventually. "I was the closest thing to a friend you ever had. You ran away and you left me to die!" she repeated.

"I didn't run away! I went to get help."

"You took your time." She snarled, and her pretty, five-year-old face contorted in rage, her pasty, drowned complexion making the image even more haunting.

"I didn't think you would die!"

"You watched me go under the water! You stood there and watched me struggle, watched me beg you to save me. What did you think would happen?"

"I didn't understand what was happening."

Guy was flailing. The force of her anger was physically draining as well as mentally, and he knew that his arguments would never persuade her. He had spent almost thirty years trying to use them to convince himself, and they hadn't worked. He had never forgiven himself for his sister's death. He had never had the courage to speak to anyone else about it lest they strike him down with the same accusations that Bethan herself was using. But if he was ever going to get out of this hell, find Marian and complete his purpose, then he was going to have to get round Bethan.

"What did they say?" she said, coming closer and looking up, making direct eye contact despite their dramatic height difference. "What did they say when they found out you had killed your sister?"

"I didn't kill you!" Guy howled, but the memories were already resurfacing.

_You did all you could. It was a tragedy. Nothing could have prevented it. _

Guy jerked back into consciousness. That part of his memory had always remained fuzzy, but now he could hear it clearly, and his heart skipped a beat when he realised why. For a brief second, out of the corner of his eye, he saw someone behind Bethan in the corner of the room, a familiar face all but forgotten. The figure gave a brief smile, and Guy blinked but it was gone.

His father.

He faced Bethan, the words repeating themselves over and over in his head, giving him the confidence to confront her.

"I have shouldered the guilt all my life, Beth, but not anymore. It was not my fault. I was young and scared, and I did what any other seven-year-old boy would have done."

"You knew I couldn't swim," said Bethan, although the strength of the anger behind her words was fading. She was backing up, almost as if she was afraid. Not of him, but of losing her argument.

"Neither could I! If I could've jumped in and saved you Beth I would have done. But I couldn't so I did the next best thing. I did what I could, Beth, and I don't see why I should be forced to bear responsibility for that."

"You left me," she whispered, but the words held none of their previous force. "You left me to die."

"I left you to try and save you."

She was fading, like Marian had done, until only her voice was left.

"Why are you here?" Her words came on the breeze before they were gone altogether.

Guy looked around the room.

"Father?"

There was no reply. He hadn't expected one. Something inside wanted him to stay and search, but he knew that it would not be profitable. The afterlife was trying to stop him from finding Marian, even if it was doing so by helping him in some ways.

He shook himself, refocusing on his task. He left the room, but the new-found confidence that the momentary image of his father had given him faded immediately.

"Hello Gisborne," said the Sheriff, in the too-soft, too-friendly voice that Guy knew only too well…

* * *

_Yes, there it was. I always thought that there was something more to Guy's loneliness and inferences to Marian of having done terrible things, and this back story popped into my head fully formed. It also explains, for those of you who read 'Desert Secrets', why Guy would have named his daughter Beth. _

_The BBC has said that Guy's younger sister will be making an appearance this series. I thought of her first, ok? If she ends up being called Bethan, someone out there hates me, and if she ends up drowning, then someone out there REALLY hates me…_

_Regarding Guy's father... I'd like to think that there's at least one person in the afterlife who Guy has a vaguely good working relationship with. _


	6. Chapter 6

_Hello again folks. Sorry for the wait, but at least it's not as long as last time! I bought the series 2 box set today, something that made me very happy, and it spurred me on to finish this chapter. That and the fact that I am still traumatised from the events at the end of 3.02. You know what I mean. COME BACK!!!!! _

_Ahem. On with the chapter._

* * *

_Six_

_Salvation?_

Marian ran back towards her home. She was going home. She was going to take the chance that Alice had forewarned her of, and she was going to be free again… She skidded to a halt in her tracks.

_Is this what I really want?_

She paused and thought of Guy, the hope she had felt when he had appeared in front of her. Her first thoughts had been of freedom and the opportunity to live again, but there had been something stopping her. Something had prevented her from taking his hand there and then and being done with the decision. It was a simple enough one to make, the most chillingly simple of all the decisions she'd ever had to make. Life or death. She hadn't understood, and she still didn't understand. Why was Guy in the afterlife in the first place, and ostensibly trying to bring her back? Hadn't he been the one who had killed her in the first place? Marian closed her eyes and forced her thoughts elsewhere before she found herself reliving her death once more. Why would she want to go with him to get out of this place?

_Well, right now I'll take any route I can find. _

She wasn't going with Guy for any other reason than that he was the only way out. Damn it, if her chance at salvation had been the Sheriff she would have taken it. Marian sighed. Would she really? She knew she was only trying to kid herself, trying to avoid the issue. She didn't even know if she wanted to leave, let alone who with. And that still didn't tell her why Guy was here in the first place…

She entered the hall again, sitting down at the long table and placing her head in her hands. It would be best to tackle the problem head on. Firstly, did she want to leave?

"Marian?"

She looked up to see her father standing in the doorway, his brow furrowed with puzzlement.

"Are you alright?"

"Yes. I'm just… thinking." She fell to her contemplation again. Her father was here in the afterlife, he was here with her in their home. It could be perfect, like the idyllic life that they had led before the new Sheriff had arrived. But it wouldn't be perfect, would it? There would always be something hanging over them, the shadow of death. What was there to look forward to? Where was the hope, the joy, the excitement? If she stayed with her father in the afterlife then she was condemning herself to an eternity of emotionless tedium. She had always craved danger and excitement, but there was none of that to be had here. All she could do was wait for those who still lived to join her in their fate, but there was no telling when that might be. And how would they have changed when they did join her? If Robin had gone on to live a long and fruitful life, then would he remember his childhood sweetheart in the afterlife? The more Marian thought of her prospects, the more she was repulsed by the idea of staying where she was. There was nothing for her in this life. Nothing could keep her here. Except…

Marian remembered the familiar tones of her mother's humming in the forest. It had come to nothing, and she knew deep down that it would always come to nothing. No matter how hard she tried, she knew that she would not find her mother. Before she could try to work out why, her thoughts were once more interrupted by her father.

"There's something troubling you, I can tell." He came to the table and sat down opposite her, pushing a glass of wine towards her elbow. She drank it out of courtesy, neither tasting the liquor nor feeling the burn of the alcohol as it slipped down her throat.

"It's all new…" She gestured to the room around her. "I'm still getting used to it." There was something in his face that was stopping her from telling him the whole truth. It was almost wary, and Marian wasn't quite sure if she trusted him or not.

_Don't be stupid. He's my father, of course I can trust him._

She looked at him pointedly.

"Father, if you had the chance to go back, to live again, would you take it?"

"I don't see why you would want to," he replied. "This is a better place Marian. Surely you know that."

"I'm not entirely convinced."

Her father smiled, but it did not reach his eyes.

"You will be. It just takes time. Now, I have to go to the castle. There is a… disturbance there. My assistance is required."

The castle… Marian jumped up. If Guy was in the afterlife, then that was where he would be. If she had found herself in her home, then surely Guy would find himself in his home. And he knew the castle better than any other place that could possibly be called home, even Locksley Manor. If she was going to use him as her escape route then she was going to have to find him, and the castle was the obvious place to look.

The old question resurfaced. Why was Guy doing this? Why was he here? He was risking the unknown, risking everything to journey to the afterlife and attempt to bring her back, but why? Why do that for a woman he'd just killed?

_Love._

He loved her. She had always known that. But he had run her through with a sword. Surely no man would kill his beloved.

_Unless his beloved had just been taunting him, laughing at his love for her, trying anything in order to protect her king and country and forgetting, in the heat of the moment, the violent temper she knew him to possess. _

Marian knew she hadn't meant the words she had said. She had been exaggerating, but she'd had no choice. It was her or King Richard, and she knew that the king was more important. So she had tried, but her delaying tactics had not worked in the way she had expected. Guy had killed her… but he had not meant to. Her death, she now realised, had been her own doing, no matter how unintentional, and now Guy was trying to undo what they had done between them. He was risking everything to rescue her from the place he had sent her, because he loved her.

And somewhere, deep inside, a small part of her loved him for it.

"Wait," she called to her father, who was just about to leave the house. He paused with the door open. "I'll come with you." She made to run towards him but her head was spinning and she stumbled into his arms.

"I'm sorry my dear. You aren't going anywhere. I have no choice. The balance must remain."

As he carried her up the stairs, Marian's eyes rested on the glass of wine before she surrendered consciousness completely. She had been drugged, betrayed by her own father…

XXX

Guy backed up instinctively, wishing he had his sword. He had never felt quite so vulnerable since his childhood, and it was a sensation that he hoped never to experience again. The Sheriff laughed and followed him.

"You know Gisborne, I've been asking myself something. What actually are you?"

Guy didn't answer. He was only half listening. In searching for a way out of the situation he had spotted something behind the Sheriff.

The gate. The open gate, leading out into the green pastures of Nottinghamshire and Sherwood, and beyond that the flash of white that was Knighton Hall. That was his escape route. The only thing he had to do was get past the Sheriff.

"Gisborne! Look at me when I'm shouting at you!"

Guy met the Sheriff's eyes.

"I've realised something, Gisborne. You are nothing but a soldier. Without your sword you are nothing." He sighed in mock sympathy. "Defenceless."

Guy couldn't go any further. His back was against the wall, and the Sheriff was closing in, so near Guy could almost feel his breath on his face. Except, he couldn't. The apothecary's words, all but forgotten, came back to him.

_The afterlife is the realm of the dead._

"I've realised something too," he said, praying that his theory was correct.

"Oh yes? And what's that, Gisborne?"

"You aren't real. You aren't here. You can't be here. _You aren't dead_."

The Sheriff jumped back as if he had been stung, looking around him as if he was lost and trying to establish his surroundings. Guy smiled. He had been right. The figure in front of him was fading and Guy passed him easily to go through the door, heading towards the main gate. Like all the others, soon there was nothing left but a voice on the breeze, a harsh, unfamiliar voice, the same one that had interrupted his brief encounter with Marian.

"GET HIM!"

There was a low rumble, like creaking stone. The castle was changing again, and he was going to lose the gate if he wasn't careful. He ran, propelling himself forward with as much force as he could muster, throwing himself through the gate with a second to spare. When he looked behind him there was nothing but smooth stone.

Guy paused to get his breath back. He was safe for the moment, but time was of the essence. He could still see Knighton Hall through the trees and he hoped that if his logic had been right once it could be right again.

Outside the castle the world seemed more… normal. Less unpredictable. The stables were still in the same place, and Guy didn't stop to wonder why the rules didn't apply to horses as he found his black stallion and mounted quickly. He galloped towards the white building in the distance, trying not to think of what awaited him when he got there…

* * *

_Well, it's all go! I'm off to break open my new box set and finish writing the next chapter, which, despite being a logistical nightmare, is proving to be my favourite so far. _

_You know what I'm going to say now... review please!!! _


	7. Chapter 7

_Ok, at long last it's here! Spurred on by the fact Guy is BACK, I present the next chapter. Please enjoy._

* * *

Seven

_A fine line between reality and imagination_

Marian woke groggily and groaned. That was it. If there had been any doubt in her mind before then there was certainly none now. She wasn't going to stay in a place where her father was prepared to drug her for a moment longer than she had to. She was going to get to the castle by any means necessary. She was going to get out, and that was final. She sat up and looked out of the window at the castle on the horizon. The golden sun of her perfect morning had given way to a wash of grey clouds, constantly threatening rain, the sun now a burnt amber colour as it began to set over the horizon. Maybe it had changed to suit her mood. She snorted at the irony and got to her feet, looking out into the yard and starting when she saw her father there. How long had she been out for? Had he been to the castle and come back, or hadn't he gone at all? The memory of worry rose like bile in Marian's throat, not a true feeling but stronger than the vague sensations she usually experienced in the house. If her father had been to the castle, maybe the disturbance had been dealt with. Maybe Guy was no longer there. Her chance to escape may have gone.

_Well,_ she thought. _Nothing chanced, nothing gained._

She made her way downstairs and into the courtyard, but as soon as she did so, something shifted. The world seemed to move around her, as if she were on a ship in stormy weather. The ground rocked under her feet and the buildings and trees spun. Marian closed her eyes against the nausea that threatened to set in – she had never been entirely comfortable on boats – and gave a snort of laughter at the irony that although she could no longer feel happiness or anger, she could still feel sick. She opened them again and the world had stopped spinning, but she stayed where she was just in case. Her father was still in the same position, standing like a statue in the middle of the yard. It was as if he was keeping a lookout for something. Marian's heart leapt as she remembered Guy's words from their brief and unworldly encounter in the forest.

_I'll find you, I promise._

That's why her father was standing guard. Guy was on his way. The dead had failed to stop him in the castle and now he was coming to find her and take her away from this infernal nightmare, and her father was waiting for him, waiting to protect her from her killer and prevent her leaving with him. Marian sighed. She knew he was only doing it for her benefit, doing what he thought was best for her, but how could she make him see that what he thought was best wasn't what she needed? She looked around the yard, peering into the distance where Nottingham town loomed high on the horizon, trying to make out a black form moving amongst the green. As her eyes scanned the countryside, she saw something in the corner of her vision, but when she turned to look fully it was gone. Her brow furrowed in puzzlement, Marian looked away again, and, yes, it was there in the corner of her eye once more. The shape was a black horse, and a familiar one at that. It was Guy's black stallion, tethered to the stable wall. Slowly and carefully she made her way across the yard, ignoring the spinning sensation as best she could, but it was hard to focus on her destination when she couldn't see it. She waved her hands around blindly in the air as she approached the place where the horse should have been, although she didn't see what difference it would make. If she couldn't see the horse then it was hardly likely that she was going to be able to touch it. She was definitely leaving now, if there had been any seeds of doubt in her mind after the last time she'd made that declaration. She wasn't going to stay in a place where her own perception could be tampered with. Presently her roaming fingers struck something and a whinny in her ears told her that, miraculously, she had found the horse. Marian blinked several times, but she still couldn't see it, even thought she was touching its soft mane and she could feel its breath on her neck. She closed her eyes.

_Imagination is the most powerful tool we can possess._

She remembered the horse, remembered what it looked like from the brief flashes she had seen earlier and her deeper memories, of life itself. She imagined how it would look now, its head in her hands. She opened her eyes again and found herself face to face with the horse. Marian had to take a dizzying step backwards to get over the astonishment of realising that her logic had worked. Guy's horse was there in front of her, and it was unmistakably real. Marian's breath caught in her throat as her mind took the next logical step. If Guy's horse was here, then Guy would be here too. The only problem was finding out where. If, for some reason, the afterlife had prevented her from seeing the horse, then it was more than likely to be preventing her from seeing its owner.

"Guy?" she called, looking around the yard. Her eyes were taking in everything, the details on the buildings, the stray tufts of weeds in the grass, the way her father's eyes narrowed as he looked over at her, yet she felt completely blind. "Guy, I know you're here! Where are you?"

She probably shouldn't be attracting so much attention to herself, reflected Marian. She wasn't going to aid her escape much by announcing her intentions to the world, but the feeling of panic was coming back to her, growing stronger and more vivid by the second.

"Ssh," came a familiar voice by her right ear. "I'm here."

The rush of elation Marian felt on hearing those words was indescribable. She turned to view empty space, but she had been prepared for that. Whether she could see him or not, she knew he was there. She could feel his presence beside her, so wonderfully alive, and that vitality reawakened her own suppressed emotions. Guy had found her, and she had found feeling.

"I can't see you," she said, the frustration resounding in her words. She felt a warm hand take hers. "I can feel you. I can hear you. I just can't see you. I can see your horse, but not you."

"Try." His voice was quiet but pressing. "I know you managed to see my horse. I was watching you. I couldn't get to you past your father. Whatever you did worked once. Maybe it can work again."

Marian closed her eyes.

"How come you're here with me now?" she asked.

"He let me past when he realised you knew I was here. Perhaps he felt there was no use in delaying the inevitable." He paused. "I shall let you concentrate now."

Marian obliged, focussing on images from her memory, although as soon as a picture stuck, it was replaced by another, unwanted one. The burning desert sun, the howl of rage... Marian gasped and opened her eyes before the impact.

"I can't… All I can see is you coming towards me with a sword." She felt tears form in the corners of her eyes.

"Oh no…" Panic was rising in Guy's voice too. "That isn't my true essence Marian. Please believe me when I say I was not myself. I swear. This is me."

He brought the hand he held to his lips, his touch lighter than Marian had ever known it, but it was to no avail. The image of her final moments of life clung stubbornly to the edge of her vision.

"No," she said. "This isn't you. You aren't like this really. You can be tender, yes, but you have a passionate heart. Too passionate, at times." She sighed. "We need to strike the balance. Is there any other way?"

"I don't know… Perhaps there is. I think there is, but…"

"Try it," Marian interrupted, not caring what she might be letting herself in for, just desperate to overcome this last hurdle and facilitate her escape from this maddening world. She closed her eyes. "Anything."

She felt his hands cup her face and turn it upwards towards his, and she knew what was coming. Strangely, it didn't worry her in the way she thought it should.

"Forgive me," he whispered, and pressed his lips to hers.

The kiss was still tender but with a sharp, urgent edge. This was the Guy she knew, the Guy she remembered. Hopelessly, _scarily_ in love with her, but still unpredictable and rough, a true solider. Gentle, but passionate. Gingerly, she accepted him, and she felt him soften slightly with her acquiescence. His hands moved from her face to her waist and she could just see him in the back of her mind, a true image this time, not a violent memory. Suddenly he broke away, the intensity having taken them both by surprise. Marian opened her eyes. He was there, in front of her, just the same as he always had been.

"I can see you."

"I know." He smiled, a worried half-smile at the corner of his mouth. "Now we need to go. Quickly." He had lifted her onto his horse before she could protest and climbed on in front of her, kicking his heels in. The steed set off at a gallop away from Knighton Hall. Marian looked back over her shoulder at her father. He was standing, shellshocked, in the centre of the yard, watching her ride away. As the distance between them increased, Marian felt a stab of regret at leaving him alone again, although it was too late for lamenting. She was set on her course now, a course that she had already long decided on. Out of the corner of her eye she could see a veritable legion of people swarming the road from the castle to Knighton, the other dead, coming to investigate the disturbance and reset the balance. But they were too late. Guy had succeeded.

Marian adjusted her hold on his waist and leaned into his back, breathing in the smell of sweat and leather. It was so real and tangible she could almost touch it. She smiled and closed her eyes.

She was going home, and it felt fantastic.

* * *

_TO BE CONTINUED_


	8. Chapter 8

_Here it is, next chappie, and the action is out in full force! Hope it's as exciting to read as it was to write!!_

* * *

_Eight_

_The third rule_

Guy flicked the reins and the horse stopped suddenly. He looked behind them, gauging the distance between them and their dead pursuers, and cursed violently.

"What is it?" asked Marian, alarmed. She sensed that their escape was not going to be quite as easy as she had first thought, but then she realised that she hadn't given any thought to how they were going to leave this place. Neither, did it seem, had Guy.

"We have to leave with the sunset," said Guy. "That's the third rule."

"I beg your pardon?"

"The third rule of the afterlife. We have to leave with the sunset, that's what the apothecary said. But he didn't say how we leave. Only when."

Marian looked over his shoulder at the sun, low on the horizon, bathing the land in a fiery orange glow. It was nearly set, only a small portion remaining above the landline.

"Perhaps we leave in the same way that we came here," she suggested.

"Perhaps." Guy turned the horse around but didn't set off. "That means going back to the castle, though."

The prospect, thought Marian, was not a particularly welcome one. Going back to the castle meant going back past the legion of dead who were set on chasing their goal and dragging her back to her new, unfeeling eternity and Guy… Well, who knew what they were going to do to Guy? Besides, although Guy had found himself in the castle, she had not entered the afterlife there.

"I'd have to go back to Knighton Hall," she said.

"That can't be the way," said Guy. "I went through Hell to find you. I'm not letting you go again. Wherever we go, we're going there together." His eyes were wild and, Marian thought, slightly fearful. "I'm not letting you out of my sight."

Guy took a deep breath and tried to think rationally, trying to pick up every possible nuance from the apothecary's words. The old man had known that he intended to find Marian; surely he didn't expect them to separate in order to leave the afterlife. What would be the point of his finding her in the first place then?

"So what are we going to do?" Marian pressed.

"I don't know!" snapped Guy. "Let me think!"

There must have been something in what the apothecary said, some veiled reference within the rules themselves. Guy looked at the rapidly setting sun and terror gripped him. If they were trapped… It would be alright for Marian. She was 'one of them'. But for Guy, a living soul trapped in the world of the dead forever? It didn't bear thinking about.

"Guy…" Marian's voice was high and nervous. He turned to peer over his shoulder at their pursuers, who were bridging the gap between them quickly. "Guy, we have to keep moving."

Guy shook his head.

"That only puts off the inevitable. We need to stop them, distract them in some way."

"And how do you propose we do that?" she yelled, causing Guy to flinch at the proximity of her mouth to his ear.

"Use your imagination!" he said. "Anything that'll slow them down!"

"That's very helpful!" she hissed. "Right now all I can think of is a stone wall!"

"Well imagine it then!" he said, exasperated, before realising that, despite being dead, Marian was not fully aware of the rules that governed her afterlife.

"What?"

"Just do it!" he roared, the ferocity visibly taking her by surprise. "I'll explain after," he added gruffly.

Marian closed her eyes, and had it not been a completely inappropriate time and place then Guy would have marvelled at the way her nose wrinkled in concentration. As it was, they were running out of time and nothing seemed to be happening. Guy closed his eyes in grim anticipation of what was to come. It was two and a horse against an innumerable army, and not only were they unarmed, their adversaries were invulnerable.

"Did it work?" asked Marian's voice in his ear.

Gingerly he squinted through half-closed eyelids, not wanting to see the result if it hadn't. But, astonishingly, instead of advancing battalions, he saw nothing but cold grey stone stretching as far as the eye could see.

"Yes," he said, unable to keep the wonder out of his voice.

"How...?" She sounded as amazed as he did.

"The first rule," he said simply. "The afterlife is the realm of the dead. You are dead. You have a certain amount of control over this realm. You can mould it to your will. I can't. Now we have more time, but…" he glanced back at the sunset. "We still need to find a way out."

"Do we?"

The simplicity of her question alarmed him.

"Of course we do," he said unsteadily. "We have to leave before the sun sets."

"But what if we don't?"

"I don't know what happens. Marian, for once…"

"What?"

"Stop being difficult!" he snapped. She recoiled slightly from his words, letting go of his waist as if she had been stung. Immediately he missed her touch and regretted his harshness. "Marian, that wall will not hold forever," he said softly. "You are not the only one with power over this realm. The others will come after us, and they will not stop chasing us until they are successful. They will kill me, and take you back to 'where you belong'." He spat the final words with uncharacteristic viciousness.

"If they kill you then you will belong in this world too," she said, a hint of child's stubbornness in her voice. "I do not want to be here because I cannot feel here. But next to you I feel alive; I have emotions."

"I somehow doubt that it is that simple," said Guy through gritted teeth. "You can probably feel alive around me because I _am _alive, and I will not be for much longer if we don't get out of here!"

Marian couldn't understand her sudden reluctance. When Guy had lifted her onto the horse she couldn't wait to leave, but now, looking into the amber sunset, she was getting cold feet. Then she realised her problem in an instant. It was a fear of the unknown. Now that she realised her powers over the realm, and she was able to feel, she didn't want to risk the final step. If she could keep Guy with her, she could protect them both…

Marian shook herself mentally. _No_, she thought. _That is selfish. As Guy says, my power will not hold forever, and by then it will be too late. We have to leave now, or never._

Presently Guy howled in frustration, causing the horse, which had been cropping grass happily, to jerk its head up nervously.

"This third rule," said Marian, her mind going into overdrive. "What is it? The exact words? There must be a clue somewhere."

"You must leave with the sunset," Guy quoted. "That's all it is."

Marian repeated it several times over, trying the stress on different words to try and alter the meaning. Suddenly Guy kicked his heels in and the horse set off like lightening. Marian turned to see her wall falling into dust and their pursuers picking their way over the rubble.

"I knew it wouldn't last long, but I thought we might have a little more time," he panted. Marian didn't reply, continuing her repeated mantra.

"You must leave with the _sunset… _You must leave _with_ the sunset…"

"That's it!" Guy yelled. "Marian, you're wonderful!"

"I am?"

"Leave _with _the sunset! That's it! The sunset is the gateway! That's how we get out!" He spurred the horse onwards, and Marian felt sorry for the poor beast before realising that it was in all probability just an illusion. "See!"

The sunset was not getting any further on the horizon; the orange crescent seeming to get nearer and nearer. There was no doubt in either of their minds now, this was it, they were getting out…

A few yards from the place where the light began to pool lazily across the ground, the horse stopped short, whinnied in fright and finally reared, throwing them off its back. They landed in a heap, Guy on top of Marian. He spluttered slightly before seeming to notice where he was and jumping up, pulling Marian gently to her feet.

"Are you alright?" he asked, patting her down for injury instinctively.

"Yes, yes," she said, batting him away. "Inability to feel pain is one advantage to death. You shouldn't be wasting time with me, let's go!"

Guy smiled.

"You haven't changed," he said, and he set off at a run. Marian struggled to keep pace with his long lopes, stumbling over the hem of her dress. Finally he took her hand and dragged her along with him, his momentum keeping her going. They were almost at the light, so very nearly there, when Marian fell fully, letting go of Guy's hand. As she picked herself up, she found herself face to face with the first wave of those chasing them, and her breath caught short in her throat.

"Come on!" she heard Guy call.

Marian paid no attention. She was staring into the eyes of the one person she had longed to see here in the afterlife even more than Guy.

Her mother.

She reached out a hand to touch her, check she was real, but before she could make contact she felt Guy's arms round her waist, hefting her bodily off the ground and pulling her backwards. She struggled against him, crying and kicking her heels.

"Come on!" he repeated through gritted teeth,

"Let me go!" she spluttered. "My mother!"

"Marian!" This was a different voice in her ear, although still full of panic and fear. "She's just an illusion! They want you to stay! They don't want the balance upset! Remember your promise!" Marian looked up. Alice was standing beside her, a smoky silhouette. "She's just an illusion," she repeated, her voice melancholy.

Marian went limp in Guy's arms, the dejection she felt manifesting itself physically in the weight in her limbs. She let him pull her backwards, into the light, feeling an otherworldly pull at her back, some magical force pulling her back into her life from the afterlife she truly had no reason to stay in anymore. But before the orange engulfed her vision completely, Marian had one last, desperate thought. She lunged forward, out of Guy's arms, grabbing Alice's thin and smoky wrist…

"Marian!" Guy cried, although he was too late. The pull was already too strong. He couldn't go back for her. He was returning to the true life, and he prayed that Marian would be too…

* * *

_TO BE CONTINUED! _

_One chapter left! Does Marian make it back? What will happen if she doesn't? What will happen if she does, for that matter? Did she manage to bring Alice back too? _

_Find out in the next instalment!_


	9. Chapter 9

_Here it is, the last chapter! I always get an 'end of an era' feeling when I complete a fic, this time is no different, but at least I have 'Continuation' and 'Forest Secrets' to take my mind off it. _

_Anyway. Enjoy! This chapter is twice as long as all the others, once I started writing I just couldn't stop!_

* * *

_Nine_

_Back into Life_

Guy felt as if there was an overwhelming weight pressing down on his chest, crushing all the air out of his body and threatening to crack his ribs. He gasped for breath but none came and he choked, eyes streaming. This couldn't be death, he couldn't be dying, he was coming back to life; he was bringing Marian back. He couldn't be dying… He tried to force another breath, and his chest contracted painfully for a brief moment before air rushed into his lungs, taking him by surprise and making him splutter violently. He took a few deep breaths to calm his pounding head and digest his surroundings. He was back on his bed in the Sheriff's house on the edge of Acre. The beginnings of a pink sunrise were just beginning to peek through the shutters, strange shadows leering at him in the half-light. He was back in his body, back in the true life. He was alive.

Guy felt something sharp sting his hand and he looked down to see the vial that the apothecary had given him cracked into tiny shards in his grip. He smiled. The man may have been cryptic, but they'd figured him out in the end… The force of that thought struck him physically and for a moment he felt again as if he couldn't breathe. Marian. Where was she? Had she managed to come through the gateway or was she still trapped?

"Marian!" He jumped up; calling her name as loud as he dared in the silent house, but it was to no avail. Wherever she was, she was obviously not with him. Suddenly the breathless, choking feeling engulfed him once more and the force sent him to his knees. He had a vision, only momentary before it faded, of miles upon miles of soft sand, and the terrible truth dawned on him. Marian was here. She had come back to life with him. But, like he had come back to his body where he had left it in life, so had Marian come back to hers, buried deep beneath the Acre desert. He had brought her back but he would lose her again if he didn't free her from her airless, suffocating prison within the sands.

Guy didn't stop to think, charging from the room as fast as he could, paying no attention to the other occupants of the house. He could hear the Sheriff calling after him, his words slurred through sleep but still conveying his anger at being woken up at dawn. Guy didn't care. He could deal with the Sheriff when the time arose, later, at that moment he had much more pressing concerns. He left the house and slammed the door behind him, throwing a saddle over the nearest horse and mounting quicker than lightning.

"Gisborne!" The Sheriff appeared at the door, the ferocity of his expression dampened somewhat by his state of disattire. Guy gave a snort of wry laughter before kicking his heels in, the horse setting off at a breakneck pace. "Where are you going?"

Guy didn't know. Had he not been so fired on adrenaline he would have stopped the horse in his tracks. He didn't know where Marian was buried. He supposed that it would be on the outskirts of Acre, but who knew if Hood had his own agenda? Guy kept the horse going, pounding away at the sand as he rode towards the ever unreachable horizon. Suddenly, the sensation of choking came again, stronger this time, and as he shifted in the saddle, gasping for breath, the horse veered violently to the left. Had it sensed what was happening? Was it leading him to his destination? Guy could only hope, closing his eyes against the sand blowing in the breeze against his face and letting the terrible feeling of suffocation pass. He felt the horse beneath him slow and cautiously looked up to see the sculpted mounds of a newly dug double grave in the dunes in front of him. He did not know what miracle had lead them to the right place, but now that he was here, there was no time to lose. Guy jumped off the horse and ran to the grave unmarked by military honours, scrabbling away at the powdery sand with his hands, not daring to use his sword even though it would have speeded up the process considerably. Cursing, he realised that he probably should have thought before leaving the house at such a pace; if he had taken a moment he would have remembered that he needed a spade. The sand was light enough, the sun not yet having had chance to bake it hard, but every second was precious and any sparing of labour would be welcomed. The sun was not yet fully over the horizon but Guy still felt as if he was roasting inside his leathers. Finally his gloves touched something soft, and he brushed away the sand with more tenderness to reveal Marian's body, as peaceful as if in repose. He remembered the last time he had seen her like this, the life ebbing away from her as she limbered in his arms. She looked no different, except for what Guy hoped was a faint blush of life on her cheeks. He lifted her out of her sandy prison and lay her on the ground in the open air, placing his hand on her chest in order to feel the steady rise and fall of her breathing, but there was no movement. He carefully drew out his sword, almost not trusting himself with it around her, the wave of guilt he felt on seeing the bloodstain that had spread over her white gown nearly causing him to break down. He placed the flat of the blade under her nose, but there was no condensation. She wasn't breathing. He had been too late.

Guy howled in exasperation. It wasn't meant to have ended like this. It wasn't going to end like this. He had brought her back and he was not going to lose her again. He cursed the apothecary for not telling him this vital piece of information, not caring that he had been praising the man only minutes before, not caring that he should have worked it out for himself. He took off his gloves and brushed away the grains of sand that dusted her face before gently parting her lips and pressing his own against them. Ironic, he thought, that to help her he should have to kiss her, and he remembered the moment in the afterlife at Knighton. This time it was different. This was a matter of life and death in the most urgent sense of the words. He forced his own breath into her body, willing her to accept it and to wake fully. He moved away and took another breath, but before he could act on it her body twitched and she took a strangled gulp of air, her mouth opening as wide as it would go. She retched painfully, coughing up a mixture of sandy bile and blood. Reaching up a violently shaking hand to wipe her face, she opened her eyes, looking straight into Guy's.

"You came to rescue me," she rasped. "You went through all that to find me. Why'd you do it?"

"I love you," Guy said simply. "I would have regretted my actions forever if I had not tried to rectify them. I…" He broke off in horror and Marian followed his eyes down to her abdomen, where fresh red blood was pouring thickly from her open wound.

"No!" Guy roared. "No! This shouldn't happen! This isn't how it's supposed to be!"

"Guy, do something!" Marian's voice was still a whisper, but this time it carried genuine fear with it. "I don't want to die again! Don't let me go back there! Please!" The last word became an agonising moan of pain, and it galvanised Guy into action. He was not going to let her go again. She was not going to slip away. He'd rescued her twice and he was not going to stop rescuing her until she no longer needed him to. He peeled off his jacket and the damp linen shirt beneath, bunching it up into a compress and holding it down over the wound, willing the pressure to keep it from worsening. Marian sighed. The pain seemed to be subsiding.

"I'm sorry," she said.

"Do not be sorry." Guy looked at her, eyes guilty. "If I had not lost my temper then this would never have happened. You have nothing to be sorry for. I was the one who caused this terrible mess. I _killed_ you."

"But only because of my words. I'm sorry for goading you so. I was trying to save the king. It was a choice between my life and his, and I chose his to be the more important one. I would have done everything in my power to stop you getting to him. I _did_ do everything in my power."

"So you do not love Hood?"

"I love him as a brother. I cannot lie to you, not now. Not like this. I love him as a friend, a brother. We share a common cause. But I would not love him as a wife should love a husband." She sighed again. "I do not love him in the way I love you, Guy."

"You love me? Even after…"

"You risked everything to bring me back. And that made me realise. I love you, Guy."

Without moving his hands from her stomach, Guy leant forward and kissed her lips lightly.

"Thank you," he said.

Marian smiled. They remained in silence for a few moments before she spoke again.

"I could not save Alice."

"Who?" Guy asked.

"Alice of Shrewsbury. A lost soul. I tried to help her out of the afterlife but I couldn't."

"Do you never think of yourself first?" Guy sighed. "I thought I had lost you then. I'd vowed not to leave without you and you were on a mercy mission… What are we going to do with you?"

Marian laughed weakly.

"Kindness should not be a weakness," she said. "Although it has been my downfall on more than one occasion."

Guy thought of the Nightwatchman but said nothing, as he had just seen something coming over the crest of a dune and even though the sun was beating down heavily on his bare back, his blood ran cold.

"Someone's coming," he said through gritted teeth, praying that the ground would open up beneath the two figures, who had dismounted from their horses and were running as fast as they could across the sand.

"Who is it?" asked Marian.

"The young outlaw, and the Saracen girl."

"Will and Djaq," Marian breathed. She closed her eyes for a moment, seeming to relax at the prospect of medical help, but then they snapped open and Guy could see fear in them. "Don't leave me," she said, worried. "Please don't leave me. You wouldn't leave me in the afterlife, don't leave me now, please!"

Guy cautiously moved one hand from the stained compress and found hers, giving a reassuring squeeze.

"I will never leave you."

The next events happened so quickly that no one could really work out what had happened. Before Guy could react he found himself wrenched away from Marian, spread-eagled flat on his back with the glint of a sharp axe blade at his throat, looking up into the face of the livid young carpenter. His eyes were wide and unblinking and there was a vein throbbing in his neck. At the same time, Djaq cried 'no!' and rushed towards Marian, taking up the position he had occupied just moments before, applying pressure on her oozing wound.

"She's alive, Will! He was stopping the blood! Come on, help me, we need to bandage this compress so we can move her. If we act quickly we can still save her life."

Djaq's voice was authoritative and clear yet it carried an undeniable note of joy. Reluctantly Will let Guy up and went over to help Djaq. Guy sat up and pulled on his discarded leather jacket, feeling his skin beginning to burn in the sun. Next to the horses he could see a small posy of peripheral pinks tossed aside; no doubt the young outlaws had been coming to decorate the grave when they saw it disturbed.

"Djaq!" He heard Marian's voice, frantic.

"Don't speak," said her makeshift physician. "Save your strength."

"No!" Even in her fragile state Marian was as forceful as ever. "You have to believe me! Guy saved me! He brought me back! I won't go if you don't let him come too!"

"Marian, you're delirious," said Will plainly. "You've been stabbed and nearly died and survived a day being buried, take it easy."

"I WILL NOT TAKE IT EASY UNTIL YOU LET GUY STAY WITH ME!" The force of this last exclamation made her choke again. As Djaq tended to her, Will turned to Guy.

"Is it true?"

He nodded.

"You brought her back from the dead?"

Another nod.

"How?"

"Does that matter?" interrupted Djaq. "Marian's alive, that's what counts." The two outlaws looked at each other, then at Guy, both thinking along the same lines.

"If you don't…" Marian began.

"Marian, please don't act like a petulant child," said Guy, but there was none of his usual anger in his voice. "It is for your friends to decide what is best."

"You said you would stay with me." Marian was wavering now, her bottom lip trembling as the trauma she had been through in the past day finally caught up with her.

"I will, if I can."

Djaq seemed to sigh visibly, then nodded.

"If that is what will make Marian happy, then perhaps it will aid her recovery to have you around." Her eyes narrowed. "This does not mean we trust you or forgive you for what you did. But we are grateful that you saved her, however you did it."

Will nodded his agreement, refusing to take his eyes off Guy, watching his every move like a hawk. Marian smiled and finally gave into her emotions, tears spilling down her face.

"Thank you," she said. The remark was obviously meant for her friends, but she was looking at Guy when she spoke…

XXX

No one noticed as the procession of horses, travelling achingly slow due to their delicate cargo, passed by the outskirts of the town. No one except one man, who stood in the shadows of his hut and watched them go by, a smile finding its way over his wizened features. He knew that they would face many more troubles before the year was out. He knew how many times they would have to rescue Marian from death's door whilst she recovered. He knew the terrible conflict that awaited them on their return to England. He knew the dangers that Guy would face when he met the Sheriff once again. He knew that they would travel to Shrewsbury to find Lady Alice still unable to find her way back from the world of lost souls. He knew that they would be pushed to their absolute limit as circumstances changed around them and they had to live with the consequences of what had happened out there in the desert.

But he knew that they would prevail.

He was the apothecary.

He knew everything.

* * *

_So what did ya think? Final review for old times sake? Please? _


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